


You Have To Fight To Make Up

by eiluned



Category: Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fights, Humor, Introspection, Making Up, Mild Angst, Teasing, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-01
Updated: 2012-04-01
Packaged: 2017-11-02 20:27:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/373027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eiluned/pseuds/eiluned
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"They'd had a fight.  Things had gone to crap on a mission, and Clint was mad at her for diving head-first into a very dangerous situation, and she was mad at him for not trusting that she knew exactly what she was doing."</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Have To Fight To Make Up

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Amanda for the beta read!

They'd had a fight.

Things had gone to crap on a mission, and Clint was mad at her for diving head-first into a very dangerous situation, and she was mad at him for not trusting that she knew exactly what she was doing.

So she left him standing in the kitchen, glaring at the coffeepot as if that would make it brew faster, and she went to the gym so she could beat the shit out of a poor, innocent punching bag.

Contrary to popular belief, Natasha hated getting into arguments. She was more than capable of navigating the nuances of other people's emotions, but she preferred a straight up physical fight. That made it much easier to tell who wins and who loses. Right then, she was winning and the punching bag was losing horribly.

But eventually punching a bag full of sand lost its appeal, and Natasha grabbed it with both hands, resting her forehead against the vinyl. She couldn't shake the feeling of guilt that had pooled in her gut when she saw the look on his face after the mission. He looked terrified and furious, emotions all muddled together in his eyes, and it had simultaneously made her feel angry and apologetic. She didn't want to hurt him, ever, but it wound her up like nothing else when he acted like she was being reckless.

She slammed one fist into the side of the punching bag, squeezing her eyes shut. She was _never_ reckless. She thought every option through before she jumped into action, and she didn't see it as a problem that she could do all of that in a split second. And in the heat of a mission, it wasn't like she had time to brief him on her plan to slide through the middle of a fire fight and toss an EMP grenade underneath the Doombot that was giving them so much grief.

He just needed to trust her.

Abandoning the punching bag, she stomped off to the kitchen to tell him so.

But when he looked up from his solemn contemplation of the countertop as she slammed the door open, his expression took the wind out of her sails.

"Hey," he said, his hands closing around a mug.

"...Hey," she replied, crossing her arms over her chest.

Natasha suddenly didn't know what to say. She had prepared a rant on the way to the kitchen, but it slipped away, and she was left standing there feeling intensely awkward.

"Look, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled at you," Clint said suddenly. "You... I just got scared. I know you can take care of yourself. Hell, you're the most capable person I know. But seeing you run right into the middle of that... It scared me."

He pushed a hand back through his hair, making it stick up. "I guess I just don't deal well with the thought of losing you," he finished, staring into his coffee cup.

It felt kind of like he had just wrapped his hand around her heart and squeezed. Biting her bottom lip, Natasha silently walked over to where he was perched on a stool and leaned against his back, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her head against the back of his shoulder. "I just wish you would trust me," she whispered.

She felt him take a deep breath and then release it, his chest expanding and relaxing within the circle of her arms. "I do trust you," he said softly. "That doesn't stop me from worrying."

"I know," she sighed. "And... I'm sorry I scared you. I didn't mean to."

He turned around and gathered her up in his arms, burying his face in her hair. "That was pretty spectacular," he said, his voice muffled. "Even if it scared the shit out of me."

Natasha smiled and pressed her face against his chest, breathing in the scent of his soap. "Thanks," she said. "It just seemed like the best option at the time. It was either stay pinned down or take a risk and maybe end the fight a little faster."

"We need to come up with some kind of signal so you can tell me you're about to do something crazy," he mumbled. "At least then I could mentally prepare myself."

She dug her fingers into his ribs in response, right where he was most ticklish, and he yelped, nearly falling off the stool. "It wasn't crazy," she retorted. "I took out its electronics, which, might I remind you, were controlling those machine guns. No more machine gun fire meant Hulk could rip open its armor and you could shoot an exploding arrow into it. I saved the day."

Cupping her face in his hands, he gave her an exasperated grin. "Yes, you saved the day," he said. "It was still crazy. Next time, just... flip me the bird, and I'll know to grab my balls and hope for the best."

"And you'll flip me off before _you_ do something crazy, like jump backwards off of a building and hope your grappling arrow actually hits something?"

"My grappling arrows always hit something, honey," he said with a sly grin, stroking his thumbs against her cheeks. "But yes. I will."

To her chagrin, her eyes started to burn, and his smile melted away into a look of concern. "I'm fine," she said quickly, to stave off both his worried question and the tears that she absolutely would not let fall. "I just... hate fighting with you."

She pressed her face against his chest again, tightening her arms around his waist, and he hugged her back, kissing the top of her head. "I know," he murmured. "I hate it too. But every couple fights. We just need to... do this. Talk it out like rational adults instead of yelling at each other. And then, you know, have make up sex."

With a laugh, Natasha rose up onto her toes and pressed her lips against his. She'd only intended to give him a quick kiss, but Clint being Clint, he slipped her some tongue and then proceeded to kiss the breath out of her.

"Oops!" someone said, and they broke apart to see Tony standing in the doorway. "I'm... oh, wait, you're not trying to kill each other anymore, are you? This isn't some kind of grappling move designed to choke the life out of Barton?"

Natasha raised an eyebrow at him. Tony leaned out the door and shouted, "Hey, Steve! The kitchen's safe! They're not fighting anymore."

"Oh good, I'm dying for a cup of joe," Steve said from the hallway.

"They've moved past the yelling at each other phase and are now at the sucking face phase," Tony added with an evil grin as Steve walked into the room.

They weren't actually kissing anymore, but Natasha was still standing between Clint's legs and their arms were around each other, and even that much PDA was enough to make Steve blush. "Tony!" he exclaimed, glaring at the smirking smartass.

"I'm just going to get some coffee," Tony said, pointing at the coffeepot and not even bothering to hide his amusement at the entire situation.

"Don't worry, Cap," Clint said, slipping off of the barstool. "You can have the run of the kitchen. Tasha and I were just leaving."

Natasha gave Steve an apologetic look as Clint took her hand and headed toward the door. "Oh, I don't want to make you leave..." Steve protested, politeness winning out over both his irritation at Tony and his embarrassment at walking in on them.

"Naw, it's fine," Clint said obligingly, and Natasha gave him a suspicious look out of the corner of her eye; he could never resist tweaking Steve, and this seemed uncharacteristically polite.

Steve smiled and accepted the cup of coffee Tony had poured for him. And of course, Clint waited until he'd taken a sip before saying, "Unless you don't mind us having make up sex on the counter."

Even Natasha had to admit, it was a pretty fantastic spittake. Tony lifted his hand for a long distance high five, and Clint grinned wickedly at her as he pulled her through the door.

They'd had a fight.

But then they made up, and that was all right.


End file.
